Legions of Orion (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 1) (24 page)

Gun lifted his arm
and blocked the Admiral, reaching out to grab her. She ducked
sideways and yanked his arm only for him to go limp and kick out at
her legs. He managed to clip her, but not before she ripped out his
blade from his belt and levelled it at his belly. He started
laughing loudly at her.

“So, time with Spartan hasn’t slowed
you down...” he leaned in closely, “yet!”

One of the
m
arines made the display of camaraderie
between her and the Jötnar as some kind of violence and lifted his
weapon at Gun. One of his henchman, a slightly shorter juvenile
Jötnar, smashed it aside and threw the man to the floor before
stamping on his elbow, instantly snapping the bone like a dried out
twig.

“Stop this!” cried out the Admiral with
both hands in the air.

Gun looked similar
to Khan, but his many scars and marks indicated he was one of the
first of the Biomechs to be freed from the shackles of the Zealots’
control. In fact, he and a small group had never been mentally
conditioned, and from his first meeting with Spartan, he’d fought
for whomever he thought deserved his help. Teresa stood alongside
him, facing off against the Admiral and his party. The statement
was both simple and clear; Teresa wasn’t going to abandon the
Jötnar.

“The only person stopping anybody is
you, Anderson. I thought you were our ally? Our friend?” he said
sternly.

Admiral Anderson
pointed to the Rift, and the dozens of ships waiting to enter it
and start their journey to the riches and prizes of New Charon and
beyond. Most of the ships were civilian, along with a smattering of
transports and the odd military escort.

“
That
R
ift is taking us to a place that ten
years ago was no more than a dot in the Orion Nebula. Now we have
soldiers, miners, corporations and workers all heading out there to
make their fortune. I have been given express orders that no
paramilitary forces are to be granted access. Only Alliance forces
have permission to enter with firearms.”

Gun snorted under
his breath and looked over to Teresa. She shook her
head.

“
Anderson, you know
we never travel unarmed. Our race is attacked openly by Alliance
citizens on planets and on ships.”

The Admiral nodded
as if
well appreciating the
problem.

“
I know, Gun, trust
me, I do. I have pushed the Defence Secretary to allow marine
security units to accompany your transports if you still wish to
travel. They can protect you from any possible dangers.”

Oh,
crap, he’s done it now!
Teresa
thought.

One of the older
looking Jötnar stepped towards the Admiral and opened his visor to
reveal a hideous face with multiple cuts along one side of his
face. He lifted his left hand and pointed to his
injuries.

“
I took these on the
surface of Euryale, fighting for your people in the Uprising. My
name is Olik, and I need no man or woman to defend me.”

He moved closer to
Gun, placing his hand on his leader’s shoulder.

“
Everything you said
about this Anderson is wrong. You said he helped our people, our
first females, and taught us engineering and industrial skills. Is
this not the man?”

Gun grunted but said no more. Teresa
looked back to the Admiral and noticed what seemed to almost be a
smile on his face.

“Teresa, I understand your corporation
has been busy in New Charon? Anything of note to report?”

Teresa seemed confused and shook her
head slowly.

“No, nothing yet, why?”

Gun listened to them
both, but he already recognised the scheming tone in the Admiral’s
voice. He’d encountered it many times in the past, when it seemed
like this one man was the only official that seemed to have even a
moment’s thought or consideration for his people.

“Strange. I heard rumours that Alliance
forces were spread thin and that more APS operators had been called
for.”

He paused, but
Teresa still hadn’t quite worked out what he was saying. For the
first time, Gun reached the conclusion before she did.

“
I think what the
Admiral is trying to say is that you requested more people, and
they have now arrived,” he said, pointing his hands at his small
group.

Teresa looked to
Gun, and a slow grin started to form on his face. She looked back
to the Admiral who was doing his best to give nothing
away.

“That’s right. Gun and his people have
been deputised under the Private Military Contractors Bill. They
are to provide area and ship-based security for non-military
operations in New Charon.”

Admiral Anderson looked
disappointed.

“I see. Well, then I have no legal
grounds to stop you from your legitimate business. I will leave you
to it.”

He turned, but
Teresa caught a hint of a wink as he moved away, leaving just her
and a group of bemused but happy-looking Jötnar. As soon as the
door shut, Gun moved closer and brought his hands together with
relish. He looked to the Rift and back to Teresa.

“
You see.
I knew Anderson wouldn’t let us down. Now, let’s
get ready. I have three ships and a thousand Jötnar who are itching
for some exploration. Do you have some work for us?”

Teresa nodded as she
looked to the Rift.

“
If the reports of
the discoveries in New Charon are true, then everybody from Old
Mars to Terra Nova will want in on the action. From today onwards,
you and your ships are official APS Private Military
Contractors.”

Olik
looked at them both and scratched his
head.

“APS Corporation? Does that mean we get
paid?” he asked hopefully.

Gun punched him in the chest and
knocked him back almost a full metre.

“
No, Olik. It means
I get paid, and then I pass some of it back to whoever does their
job. Understood?”

Olik nodded glumly. Teresa indicated
for him to come closer. He bent down so his head was the same
height as hers. She leaned in and whispered in his ear.

“I see you’re running a tight ship
here.”

He stood up straight
and roared loudly, looking to his group.

“
All we need is to
find Spartan and Khan, and somebody to fight, and it will be like
the old days.”

The Jötnar continued
with their shouting and howling, but Teresa simply stared out into
space and to the Rift. She knew that something unexpected had been
found out there, and deep down her gut told her it wasn’t going to
be good.

* * *

The squads of Alliance marines were now
all spread out and busy examining their preselected targets while
being closely monitored by General Rivers. He stayed near the
shuttles and communications array, protected by his two squads of
marines. It wasn’t that he was avoiding combat, quite the opposite
in fact. He wanted to be ready the minute any of his people found
something of note. In front of him were a number of devices that
projected a three-dimensional map of the area, as well as each of
the marines and their units. It provided him an improvised command
and control site for his entire force. Information from the aborted
landing seventy kilometres away by Colonel Daniels’ force had
showed a number of trails, each of them heading towards the new LZ.
They were linked somehow, and he intended on finding out how. Stood
next to him were two officers, both watching a pair of displays
intently. They showed a top down view of the moon as it whisked
passed slowly.

“Lieutenant, how are the drones
doing?”

The officer, a middle-aged officer with
reddish hair looked over to him.

“
General, we’re
sixty seconds out from the Colonel’s LZ. I have three birds in the
air, and they will be circling from seven hundred metres and
up.”

General Rivers
nodded and looked back to his own displays.
He tapped
the icons hovering over
each of the
squads to check on their status
,
but so
far, only Jack’s squad had uncovered anything more than ruins and
rocks.

“Sergeant Ajax, Sitrep?”

An image of the man’s face appeared on
his system. It was being recorded directly from inside the man’s
PDS suit
and showed a man that had been exerting
himself, yet he was completely calm and collected.

“General. We’re inside the structure
located by the APS scouts. Proceeding inside.”

“Very well, exercise care inside. I
don’t want any accidental discharges.”

“
Yes,
S
ir.”

The image vanished, and General Rivers
moved his hand over the three-dimensional terrain until reaching
Spartan’s own team.
They were a different colour
to the others, yet each suit was broadcasting a clear IFF signal so
that he could identify friend from foe.
They had already
covered more ground than any of the others but were now stationary.
He tapped the icon above them to reveal the video feed of
Spartan.

“Spartan, sitrep?”

The feed blurred for a second as
Spartan turned his head.
The video showed the
team of Jötnar moving cautiously as though they expected some great
beast to burst from the ground and attack them. Not that he could
blame them; their own world of Hyperion was known to be one of the
most dangerous places in the Alliance. Anybody venturing into the
jungles with Jötnar guards, armour and weapons could expect to
never return.

“General, we’ve reached what looks like
a granite wall
. It is
covered in badly
damaged glyphs and markings.
Like this one,
Sir,” Spartan explained, completely forgetting he was not in the
military. Old habits died hard with him.

The image on the
camera was clear and showed images of planets and machines. General
Rivers definitely recognised the style, if not the content itself.
Spartan looked over to his second-in-command.

“
General,
Khan is convinced the markings are similar in style to the material
he saw inside the ruins with the tech expedition seven years back
on Hyperion. There is a section to the right that appears weakened,
and we’re planning on going in
.”

The General looked at the images of the
glyphs that Khan and Spartan were sending him. He was no expert,
but they were clearly no accident. Somebody or something had carved
them directly into the rock.

“I see, how do you want to
proceed?”

The image changed so that it displayed
Spartan’s point-of-view. Directly in front of him stood Khan and
two other Jötnar. Each was carrying one of their glaives. The
device was a common polearm weapon, consisting of a single-edged
blade on the end of a pole; it was favoured by the Jötnar for its
simplicity and intimidation factor in battle. The metalworking
skills taught to them by Confederate, and then Alliance engineers,
had allowed them to incorporate the hardest alloys with fine edges
that were tough enough to break even the strongest stone.

“Uh, Spartan, What are you doing?” he
asked curiously.

Khan heard his
message on the Team channel and looked into Spartan’s visor and
grinned. Spartan knew that Khan loved nothing more than violence
and smashing things with tools and weapons, and the glaive was one
of those tools that generally resulted in destruction.

“General, we are doing what we do
best.” He then spun around and lifted the weapon above his head.
Spartan laughed.

“I think we know what happens next,
General.”

All three of the
Jötnar smashed their weapons into the weakened section and tore
open a space big enough for a Jötnar to enter. Before they could do
any more damage, another part of the wall collapsed and with a
great rumble, a chunk almost four metres tall collapsed to the
right, leaving a gaping wound in the stone structure. Dust flooded
out and covered the entire team.

“
Talk to me,
Spartan,” said General Rivers.

Spartan waited patiently until the dust
cleared to finally reveal a large open room. Specks of light in the
tall ceiling sent shafts of yellow to the ground and highlighted
dark shapes along the floor.

“
What the hell?” he
said, stepping into the breach and inside the open space. The rest
of the team followed him inside and pushed on forward. It was still
poorly lit, and they were forced to activate their lamps. As each
one came on, it illuminated yet another long row of shapes. Spartan
approached the nearest, bending down to examine it
closer.

“
They look like
beds,” s
aid one of the Jötnar in
surprise.

Spartan took a deep
breath and brushed his armoured hand across the dust-covered shape
below. Underneath, through coloured clothing, it showed the face of
a woman. He almost fell over backwards, but Khan grabbed him as he
lost his footing.

“Who are they?” asked the General over
the comms system.

Spartan straightened
up, took a deep breath and moved closer, pointing his lamp directly
at his subject. The woman wore a dull red breastplate that was
scored from a thermal impact of some kind. A symbol of a curved
weapon, much like a scimitar, was barely visible directly in the
centre. Her face was white, completely colourless. He moved his
hand slowly and made contact, only to feel the hardness of her
features.